Nonsensical Love
by ErinJo94
Summary: When Irene Adler comes for a visit our dear Watson gets jealous. He has to fight his feelings about Irene and Holmes to stay inconspicuous around his dear friend but stress is never good for the doctor. (JohnLock story, MxM Slash warning!)


_**Title: Nonsensical Love**_

_**Rating: M (For Violence, Death [no main Characters], and as always, MxM Loving)**_

_**Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson**_

_**A/N: The movie verse is my favorite, RDJ and Jude Law have perfect chemistry and are both very…very attractive (*wink wink*). I do not own any rights to Sherlock Holmes or its characters; those belong to Sir Doyle and those involved with creating the movie. I have no actual knowledge of anyone's sexual identity and I make no money from this. I only gain the satisfaction of readers reading and reviewing my story. Reviews are like gifts on Christmas! Please keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times and as always, please enjoy the story!**_

_**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SH&JW~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ **_

It was oddly silent at 221B Baker Street. The usual pattering of pacing, random bursts of violining, steps and cane clunks against the floor were all dormant. The detective and the doctor both resided in the living room area, a pot of tea was still hot and on the table where Mrs. Hudson, or "Nanny", had left it only a short while ago. Watson, with Gladstone at his feet, was quietly reading; his page turning not making a sound. He had long ago perfected that art for Holmes, his always infuriating yet somehow endearing friend, had always claimed Watson's reading was "too loud". The detective, on the other hand had his eyes closed and his mind open. He was organizing his thoughts to the best of his abilities. It looked as though the man was relaxing but in truth his mind was hard at work.

"It doesn't make sense. I didn't miss a thing." Holmes muttered to himself, finally breaking the calm silence of the room.

"Holmes, for god sake let it go."

"You, as well as I, know that that is not possible." John sighed and closed his book.

"Lestrade was at the scene first. He saw the footprints before the rain washed them away. You didn't miss them because they weren't there!" The detective perched himself atop the back of the couch, pondering.

"He threw out my suspect because of his feet! His blasted feet were too small, how did I miss that? The feet Watson, the feet!" Holmes cried as he waved his arms wildly.

"You still solved the crime and the Scotland Yard still needs you."

"Those bumbling imbeciles need me regardless of Lestrade almost solving the case before me." John shook his head. Even with the minor trip up Holmes had always been three steps ahead of the police. Holmes was just overdramatic as usual. A knock sounded at the door. Neither of the men stood to answer it, Watson because of his leg and Holmes because he didn't want to.

"I'll get it then." Mrs. Hudson said as she walked through, grumbling.

"Yes, good Nanny."

"I've asked you not to call me that Mr. Holmes. You have a visitor."

"Send them away, I'm not in the mood for rubbish company."

"I'm rubbish am I? And what of your dear Watson?" Watson's face went pale. What was she doing here? A low boil started in his stomach.

"Irene." Holmes said calmly, his voice stable as he jumped to his feet quickly, nearly falling. Watson closed his eyes and took deep breaths, trying to push down the anger inside him.

"Hello boys. I need a favor."

"What could you possibly want from us?" Holmes asked, looking her over trying to find clues.

"You tell me." She challenged.

"Well, you took a train here, meaning that whatever it was, probably a meeting was agreed to happen in front of pubic eyes. You have a new dress on meaning that you met someone important. The mud splatter on your shoes suggests that you were walking quickly here, as it rained earlier and there are puddles everywhere. You have a small bag that could hold another dress so you were planning to stay until at least tomorrow, but you weren't planning to stay here because London was not your original destination. When you approached us you watched Mrs. Hudson close the door so you expect that someone followed you."

"All that from a look Sherlock? I forgot how amazing you were." John closed his eyes again to stop himself from glaring at the horrid woman. Homes continued.

"So, you met up with a client, the meeting went wrong; you were probably too greedy. The man you made a deal with didn't give you what you wanted so you took it. After you did you switched trains to come here. While you were on that train you noticed that his men followed you and you knew you had to move quickly meaning that once you got to London you had to go somewhere you had been before, that would be here. You made sure to take a confusing path here that way the men might get lost but you don't think your plan worked that's why you were jumpy when entering the house and why every time I mention "the men" you look out the window." Watson smiled, still amazed by what Homes could do.

"How do you know I was meeting with a man for something?" Irene asked.

"The amount of skin you're showing was what you used to distract the man. Perhaps you "dropped" something and you bent over to get it, his eyes were on your chest not your hands. That's when you took whatever important thing it was." Irene smiled and pulled out a medium sized bag.

"I switched this one out with one of my own but I guess he caught on too soon?" She laughed and she opened the back to reveal a necklace with beautiful pearls and diamonds, an extremely large amount of money and a gun that appeared to be made of pure silver with a handle decorated in mother of pearl. John stared at the contents of the bag. How did she fit all of that money in there?

"I suppose he did." Sherlock said hardly glancing at the contents of the bag. He was more focused on the woman.

"The favor I ask of you is for protection, let me stay here and wait for those fools to receive my letter from America."

"Letter from America?" John asked.

"I had a lovely mail boy stamp a letter I wrote about my grand escape to America. The stamp will show that I was at a British dock boarding a large ship to America." She replied, talking to John as if he was a child. "It will arrive to the men within a few days and after that I'll be on my way to Italy." John felt the heat of his hatred for the woman growing, he would not last a night with this woman let alone three, that was for sure. He was going to go mad. He could feel tensions rising between himself and Ms. Adler by the second.

"I don't know if that's possible." Holmes said quickly.

"Come on Sherlock, only three days, five at the most. Can't you help out your oldest and dearest friend?" Watson stood quickly.

"I'll be back." And with that he grabbed his cane and went to the closet to fetch his hat and his coat. Without a word to anyone he left.

How dare she! She was not his oldest and dearest friend, he was! She came sweeping in and made Holmes bow to her every whim! She played Holmes and now Watson was left as the third wheel. Watson trudged down the crowded streets and ended up on a side street. This is where he used to come to gamble. He hadn't done it in a while, Holmes would find out and he'd have to listen to him go on and on about how stupid he was for wasting the small amount of money he had. He heard the sound of dice hitting wood and he forced himself to walk past. He went instead to a small restaurant and ordered a cup of tea.

He would be a fool if he tried to tell himself he was only jealous of being left out. In truth Watson was jealous of how easily Holmes fell for Irene every time she appeared. He would ignore Watson almost to a full extent just because he was getting attention and a sliver of affection from her. In John's mind she was nothing above a street walker! He was jealous that Holmes loved her…he loved Irene but he didn't love John. John could see the way Holmes reacted to the wench and he always felt the burning of hatred in his stomach. He wanted Holmes for himself, but he knew that it was never to be. Holmes would never be his and more importantly, he would never fully belong to Holmes. He in a sense already belonged to Holmes. He ended his relationship with Mary because he knew Holmes didn't like her and he would always follow the detective. He was hopelessly in love with him, there was no going back. There was nothing else but Holmes.

Sighing painfully Watson stood up and he paid his bill then left for the journey home. The walk, due to his rage earlier, seemed shorter than it was. He walked for a good forty-five minutes, his leg aching more and more with each step he took. The sun had set long before he left the restaurant, he must have been there for quite a while. By the time he made it to the door of his home he couldn't stand the pain. He lifted the throbbing appendage off the ground and held himself with one leg and his cane. Taking the pressure off helped a little but he knew he was in for a hellish day tomorrow. After resting a moment he walked inside, the pain almost manageable. Then he reached the stairs, he looked up at them, they seemed like mountains that he couldn't conquer. If he made it up he would never come down them, ever. He started up, one by one. He knew he was moving slowly, he was glad he was alone so no one would have to see him in a state of such weakness. He stopped halfway up the stairs and rested, he even contemplated laying down and sleeping there, maybe he could say he was drunk? No, the witch of a woman would find him and he didn't want to see her early in the morning. So, with determination he continued up the stairs and he finally made it to his room. He undressed quickly and fell to his bed in just his pants, his knee and shoulder screaming at him. He closed his eyes; if he could fall asleep he wouldn't feel the pain in his knee, his shoulder, or his heart. After a moment the tortured doctor fell asleep.

_**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SH&JW~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**_

The sun shown into John's room rousing him from his sleep. He looked around and he heard voices. It sounded like Mrs. Hudson yelling at Holmes and Gladstone for annoying her for food. John smiled. He loved those mornings. He had almost forgotten The Woman was here. He regretfully stood and the pain hit him like a punch to the stomach. He felt as if he were being shot all over again. He gasped and pushed tears from his eyes. He hung his head, panting. He didn't know how he would make it through the day. He slowly grabbed clothes then ran himself a bath and relaxed in it, the hot water relaxing his leg a little and almost reducing some of the pain. After his bath he slowly dressed and he walked out to those damned stairs. He knew he promised himself that he wouldn't go down stairs but really, that's where real life happened. After making it down the stairs he saw Mrs. Hudson feeding Gladstone and uncomfortably giving The Woman some tea. The Woman, as John had started calling Irene, was hardly dressed. Her nightclothes practically see though. John bit back a growl and he thanked Mrs. Hudson for feeding his adored pet.

"You were out late so he stayed with me." Mrs. Hudson said.

"Thank you, I hope he was good."

"He was better than your colleague normally is." The older woman said, a smile hinting at her face. John chuckled and sat at the table where he normally did, tea and his paper waiting for him. Mrs. Hudson grabbed her coat and mentioned the market and made her way past the scantily clad woman .The Woman looked John over, trying to see what Sherlock saw in him.

"Aren't you cold?" John said, a slight bite to his voice.

"No, why would I be?" Irene asked.

"You aren't wearing much."

"Sherlock liked it." Irene said, venom in her voice. She knew the best way to bring John down was to attack him using Sherlock. John's lips twitched, now he was angry.

"Yes. He often likes shallow and see though things. Myself excluded." He bit back at her. He wouldn't stand for this woman to snap at him.

"Watson! You cannot talk to a lady like that!" Holmes said scoldingly as he entered the room. John lost it. His anger boiled over.

"A lady? Where is the lady you're talking about? Mrs. Hudson left for the market! All we have here is a beggar prostitute! I don't have to treat her like a lady." With that he stood, his knee screaming at him but he wasn't taking this. With only a glare at the two people in the room he grabbed his cane and left, Irene's face full of surprise at John's words.

Once outside he hailed a taxi and he went to the hospital where he worked. Holmes wouldn't go there after him. It was the one place Holmes would just let him be. Upon his arrival he went in and began seeing patients. He was in an indescribable amount of pain but he kept pushing. His desire to help those in need and his anger was pushing him to do as much as possible. At a slow moment he was left to his thoughts. Did Holmes hate him for being rude to The Woman? Did Holmes actually love her? What did he have left if he lost Holmes? He rubbed his temples. This was all too much. He closed his eyes for a moment and before he knew it he was asleep.

_ It was hot. Too hot. How could they make soldiers dress like this what it's so hot? It's bright too. The sun baking down on the sand makes it even brighter. His head hurt, too much stress not enough water. Where did that canteen go? Looking around hurts. His eyes were unadjusted to the light, must be he's just started his shift. Someone's talking, who is that? He looks at a man, dark hair and bright green eyes. It's Michael, another doctor. They talk about a case but Watson hears something. It's a strange sound that he's never heard before. Then it's loud. It's an explosion. Michael is thrown into him, dead weight as they fall to the ground. There's yelling and screaming coming from all directions. There's blood and soldiers everywhere left to fight something they can't see. Watson yells for Michael but he doesn't move. He's gone. Watson pushes Michael off of him, he can't help his dear friend now. With tears in his eyes he starts helping the wounded; some of them crying in pain, others too weak to move. He's trying to help them all but there's too many hurt. He sees them dying, he's with them comforting them, holding them, trying to get them to hold on. He's covered in blood as he tries to save his friend Stephen. His lost so much blood. Why can't he save them?! He applies more pressure and calls for more gauze but they're running out. Their time is running out. Another blast hits and he feels it in his shoulder, metal of some kind, and then his knee. He's screaming in pain but he can't hear himself over the screams of others, it hurts, the pain is so intense he wishes then that the bullet was in his brain. He was in war, he was in Hell. He tastes blood, is this the end? Is he getting sweet relief? It's getting dark and it's getting quiet, so he waits. John waits for the end, for relief, to forget the death and pain he had just witnessed._

_ "Sweet death take me…"_

John woke with a choked gasp, tears rolling down his war beaten cheeks, crying over the wounds from what seemed a life time ago. He felt it all, he relived it all. His friends, no, his brothers dying around him and he couldn't save them, he put his head between his knees and just sat there, trying to regain his balanced breathing. It took him an hour to calm down. During that time he waved nurses from his work room so he would be alone. When he was calm he left the office, too sullen to take any more patients and he went home. He wouldn't talk to anyone about his dreams. These burdens were his alone to carry. When he got home he walked past the sitting room where Irene and Holmes were. He slowly climbed the stairs and he shut himself in his room. He didn't want to go to sleep, for fear of the dreams but he was just so tired, he had to rest. John laid down, he didn't close his eye, he swears, and yet he was asleep, at peace, at least, for a little while.

_**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SH&JW~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**_

Irene and Homes were still in the living room, having a drink. She knew she was well on her way to having Sherlock in her bed, well in his bed, that's where she had been sleeping. She watched him as he ranted about something, so deep into the topic at hand that she was sure he had forgotten she was there. Silly Holmes. She leaned forward to kiss him when all of a sudden a loud blood curdling scream sounded. The two froze, fear in their faces. Then another scream, just as loud and heartbreaking as the first sounded.

"John?! John!" Sherlock shouted as he bolted from the room. Irene merely followed him. Holmes nearly ripped the door off the hinges, the adrenaline coursing through his body. John was in trouble! He looked at his friend, pain in his eyes as he saw John on his bed crying and screaming. He had never seen John do this. He would occasionally hear crying in John's sleep, which was normal from a soldier but never this. He ran to his John and held him.

"John wake up! You're safe at home with me, Sherlock. John wake up!" John started to settle down.

"Is he crying?" Irene asked, unbelieving of the sight before her.

"Get out!" Holmes yelled at her. She jumped, surprised at his harsh tone directed at her. She merely shut the door and went back down stairs. John's fit subsided and his large blue eyes opened.

"E-Everywhere. They were everywhere…my brothers…"

"Hush now John. It was a night terror. You are home safe. I assure you." John's face was covered in tear tracks, he looked away ashamed.

"I'm sorry, I'm fine. Thank you for checking on me, I'm alright now. You can go back to the…Irene."

"I will do no such thing dear Watson." With that he wiggled onto John's bed and laid there. John nodded, unsure of what this meant but with the comforting presence of his Holmes he could rest easy, knowing that the memories were at bay.

_**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SH&JW~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**_

The next morning John awoke with a surprisingly little amount of pain. He turned his head to see if Holmes was there and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Holmes was there already awake and looking at him.

"Good morning my dear." John nodded and sat up against the head board of the bed.

"Listen, about last night, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to burden you." Holmes raised a hand.

"You were not a burden. You were a friend in trouble, a soldier in trouble no less. You have seen things my dear Watson. Things I have not. I hope that one day you will share these things and you will let me help you carry this weight." John nodded.

"If that will please you."

"Helping you would please me most definitely."

"Is Irene here?" John asked changing the subject. Homes detected something in his voice, jealousy?

"No, she left for Italy already." John nodded and he looked at Holmes. The two men locked eyes a moment when Holmes did the unthinkable. He leaned forward and kissed John. John sat frozen a moment then he joined into the kiss, amazed that this was happening. Holmes pulled back and looked into the eyes of his most beloved John.

"If I had known being around her would have hurt you I would have not allowed her to stay."

"I thought you wanted her and you, being you, would have let her stay even if I had voiced objections."

"Don't be nonsensical. I am not infatuated with Ms. Adler, I find her interesting and a challenge, she is too much like me for me to keep her around. Imagine Nanny's reaction, two of me? We'd be out of a home." John shook his head and looked at Holmes again. He was truly gorgeous. His dark hair and those deep eyes, they pulled you in and they saw into your soul.

"Nonsensical? I think I will be." John said before he kissed Holmes. The kiss grew deeper and hungrier. They knew where it was leading and they knew it was a crime but they didn't care. They had each other and that's what they needed. Holmes first took off John's shirt before he tackled his own, he didn't want to stay away from John for too long, John's lips already so much better than his cocaine. John shyly put his hands on Holmes thighs and rubbed them gently as they kissed. That made the other man moan. Holmes undid his pants then stood.

"Lay on the bed my Dear." John did as instructed, careful not to jar his knee. Holmes dropped his pants then took off his lovers pants. He then went to John's medical bag and got out a small tin of Vaseline. He opened it and dropped the lid and he got on the bed between John's legs. He made him bend his knees looking for traces of pain from the knee. Seeing none he dipped a finger in the cold substance and he rubbed his finger over John's entrance. John let out a soft noise and then he pushed the finger inside him. His brow furrowed in slight discontent, as the finger felt odd but he didn't as Holmes to stop. Holmes took that as the sign to add another finger. Pain crossed his beautiful John's face so he started rubbing John's length and distracting him from the burn. John moaned at he moved his hand around his newly hardening flesh faster. Holmes then added a third finger and apparently John hadn't noticed. He took that as a good sign. He removed his fingers and he covered his own length with the substance.

"Are you ready John?" He asked gently.

"Yes." John responded brokenly.

"This will hurt, just keep breathing."

"Sherlock I am the doctor here." John said. Instead of replying Holmes simply started pushing inside of his lover. John let out a pained gasp but didn't tell Holmes to stop. He just started breathing; he had faced worse pain before. After what seemed like forever Sherlock was inside his lover completely. The two stayed still, John trying to adjust and Sherlock trying to stop himself from thrusting. After a moment John nodded and Sherlock slowly began thrusting, rocking his hips against John, trying to find his sweet spot. John was slowly gaining pleasure as his best friend turn lover, picked up speed.

"How do you feel?" Sherlock asked panting.

"Faster, please, faster!" John cried out. Sherlock nodded, he wasn't one to disappoint. He began thrusting even faster and he was amazed at how silent his mind was; he was only focused on one thing, the beautiful man under him. Nothing about a case, or Lestrade knowing the suspects shoe size, filled his mind as he thrust inside his John. His John, he liked the sound of that. He was never sharing him now. He would always Sherlock's; it was like it was meant to be this way.

John was in bliss, the love of his life was currently inside him, making him feel better than anyone ever had. Sherlock kept the bad memories and nightmares away; he kept him safe from his guilty mind. The demons of his past didn't stand a chance against Sherlock Holmes. John was feeling amazing then Sherlock hit a spot deep within him and his whole body was struck with pleasure that went into his very being.

"There! Again!" John cried out, needing it again. Sherlock memorized the angle and he began thrusting, hitting that spot over and over watching as John arched his back and called out his name like a praise. He focused on John and where John was holding onto his length like a glove, he was so hot and tight, Sherlock had never had this much pleasure brought to him through sex. It never stimulated his mind like it did with John.

John whined, he felt his orgasm approaching as he rode the pleasure pain to the edge. This felt so amazing; pleasure was ripping through him like a tidal wave. The wave was growing higher and higher and release was closer and closer. Soon he couldn't take it, it was all so much! He was there; he was going to come soon. He felt it in his stomach like a coil was pushed to the point of breaking.

"Sherlock…Sherlock!" John screamed as he came, painting their abdomens white with his come. Sherlock watched amazed as the beautiful body below him came. He too knew that his end was near; he was on the edge and was going to come.

"I love you Sherlock." John whispered lethargically. That was it. Sherlock was falling over the edge to sweet oblivion. He came hard inside John and collapsed against him. The two lay panting, and when he could gather the strength Sherlock pulled himself out of John and laid on the side of the bed, pulling John against his chest.

"I love you too my dear Watson." Holmes said with a sated and semicocky smile.

"I can hear you smiling, knock it off, so big headed."

"I merely know when I amaze you."

"Yeah yeah." John said, smiling too. "I will have to write to Irene."

"I was under the impression that she was your mortal enemy?"

"Yes she is but I can know gloat that I have you and she won't be getting you back."

"No she won't, I'm content right here like this."

"Good, I love you and won't share you." Watson said with a yawn.

"And I you my dear. Sleep now. We'll get up later." With Holmes's command Watson fell asleep. When he was sure he was sleeping Holmes whispers, "I'm absolutely nonsensical about you my love."

_**End**_

_**A/N: Wow…that was something, huh? Like it, Love it, Hate it? Let me know in a review! Reviews make poor authors like me feel happy! Sorry about switching from "Watson and Holmes" to "John and Sherlock" I hope it wasn't too confusing! As always I hope you enjoyed the story!**_


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